


One Word

by sunnyinho



Category: Football RPF
Genre: A little bit of everything, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pierreus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyinho/pseuds/sunnyinho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's not a complainer, honestly, but he's completely over a lot of things - thankfully, Pierre is a very supportive boyfriend ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter

Marco couldn’t wait for winter to arrive. Pierre was kind of dreading it - he wasn’t a fan.

The heat in Germany had been very unforgiving this summer and frankly, it made Marco a little cranky. Pierre noticed, but he also noticed that Marco cheered up considerably whenever he decided it was too hot for a shirt while they lounged around at home.

Marco hated standing outside and getting sweaty before he’d even done anything. Pierre would point out that Marco never complained when he was the one making him sweat.

Marco disliked the fact that when they went on holiday, he had to wear something like SPF 5000 in order not to burn. Pierre just helped him put it on and assured him that he loved him the way he was, that he was beautiful, that they were beautiful together.

The main reason Marco hated summer was because it was a constant reminder of where he should have been in the summer of 2014, what he lost out on. Pierre understood, held him, gave him a shoulder to cry on when he needed it, assured him that it wasn’t his fault that he’d been injured, that he’d get another opportunity to show the world what he was made of.

Marco longed for winter to come, for the chance to use their fireplace again. Pierre had laughed for a solid hour the one time Marco tried to play lumberjack and chop wood for said fireplace. After that day, the decision was made to just have it delivered to the house.

Marco looked forward to cold mornings, snuggled up under the covers, finding creative ways to keep warm. OK, so Pierre liked that too, except for Marco’s cold feet. Maybe one day he’d start wearing socks to bed.

Marco couldn’t wait for snowball fights at training, for the opportunity to catch Pierre off-guard and hit him square in the face. Pierre couldn’t wait to get his revenge with the snowball he’d stored in the freezer at home, in that package which Marco thought contained something he would never eat, so he didn’t think twice about even looking at it.

Marco eagerly awaited the arrival of the Christmas season and nights relaxing in front of the tree, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he could figure out what was in all the packages if he stared at them long enough. Pierre couldn’t wait to shake every single gift from Marco, just to see the look on his face when he did it. His buttons were so easily pushed, but Pierre always managed to ensure that he didn’t stay mad for very long.

Marco loved winter. He thought that if he got married one day, it would probably be in December. Of course, he figured he should probably propose first before planning the wedding. Pierre didn’t really love winter - too cold, too wet, people suddenly forgot how to drive - but he loved Marco and he was ready to show him just how much. Maybe at Christmas...


	2. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets hurt. Often. (As you already know)

Marco hated the fact that he was sitting on the sidelines yet again, for the umpteenth time in the past 16 months. Pierre hated it too, wished he could somehow keep Marco more protected from this.

Marco hated the pain, of course - he hadn’t envisioned that at 26, he’d wake up each morning with some part of him hurting. Of course, Pierre had his rough mornings too, but he didn’t say much about it and just did everything he could to keep Marco comfortable.

Marco had to laugh at this one. A broken toe? Seems like such a small thing, but it’s not small for someone who primarily relies on their feet in their chosen occupation. Pierre was just thankful it wasn’t anything worse - they’d been there, done that already.

Marco worried. A lot. Worried that he’d never get past this injury-prone phase of his life. Worried that Jogi would stop calling him up to the national team. Worried that his career would be over long before its expected expiration date. Worried because football was his entire life and he had nothing to really fall back on. Pierre assured him that this would pass, that he’d become everything the critics wished he would be. He figured if he said it enough, he might start to believe it himself.

Marco had started to dream about his life after football. Actually, they were more like nightmares that kept him awake some nights. Pierre sat up with him, rubbed his back in that one particular spot that always relaxed him, held him close, talked to him until he fell asleep.

Marco really loathed sitting at home, feeling like he wasn’t contributing to society or whatever. While Pierre missed Marco at training during these times, he loved to come home to see Marco there, waiting for him.

Times like this one were the hardest, though; Marco being sent home to recover and coming home to an empty house because Pierre was with his own national team. Mind you, he wasn’t upset at Pierre for being gone - he had commitments, plus Marco loved seeing him so happy with his other ‘family’. However, Marco never missed Pierre as much as he did when he was home without him. When they were both with their national teams, Marco had a distraction, but home was a constant reminder of THEM. Pierre did his best to stay in contact while he was away - as often as possible, he’d send a text, a silly picture, maybe a serious one, maybe a slightly X-rated one if he could get away long enough to take one. He enjoyed his time with his national team, but it kind of put a damper on the joyousness of the occasion when the other half of his heart was home and missing him like crazy.

When Marco realized that he was more miserable about Pierre being gone than he was about his physical pain and not being able to play football, he started to reconsider his future plans. Maybe he didn’t want to wait until Christmas…

Pierre was counting the days, hours, minutes until he was back in Dortmund, back at home, back with the one he loved. He figured he should maybe bring him back some kind of gift, sort of a combination “get well” and “I love/missed you” gift, but what do you give the one who seems to already have everything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have any ideas how many chapters this will end up being? No idea! Hope you enjoy it, though. Feel free to come over to my [Tumblr](http://boreussin.tumblr.com/) to say hello if you'd like :)


	3. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco continues to be picky, Pierre continues to be wonderful (disgusting, ain't it?)

Marco hated having the back of his neck touched. Loathed it. Despised it. As in, he would be quick to turn around and hit anyone who did it. Pierre found that out the hard way not long after he’d come to Dortmund, when his hand on the back of Marco’s neck was met with a hard elbow to his stomach, taking the wind out of him for a few seconds.

Marco felt bad, he hadn’t known who had done it, it was just a reflex. Truth is, if he had known it was Pierre, he would’ve been a little nicer. Pierre wasn’t too offended - once he was able to properly breathe again, he actually had a good laugh about it with Marco.

After that incident, every time Marco went to training, he was greeted by a hand on the back of his neck. At first he was annoyed, but eventually he started to actually like it, started to actually look forward to it. Pierre used this as kind of a gauge to see how far he could go with Marco - once he stopped acting like he wanted to kill him for touching him, Pierre decided it was safe to ask him out on a date.

Marco accepted, of course, especially since he’d started to daydream about Pierre touching him a little bit below the back of his neck....which, ok, that happened at the end of the first date. Pierre really saw the first date as a formality, since they had gone to dinner a million times as friends. The date just mainly served as a vehicle for the night they spent together, when Pierre learned that while Marco hated having his neck touched, he definitely loved being touched everywhere else…

Marco tended to be the kind of person to want his space, to manage to sprawl out and take up an entire king-sized bed somehow. This made sharing a bed difficult at first, but Pierre quickly learned to tug Marco close against him once he felt he was starting to get into sprawl mode. He definitely preferred to wake up with Marco cuddled against his side, a leg draped over his. Pierre wished they could stay that all day and it was hard to drag himself out of bed.

Marco hated having his hair messed with. He spent a lot of time trying to make it look decent and there was always someone who thought they were being cute by messing it up during training or a match. Pierre would just insist, amidst Marco’s grumbling, that he was gorgeous, no matter how his hair looked and besides, he hadn’t complained when he had gotten his hair pulled that morning before they left the house for training.

Marco never thought of himself as a very good kisser. He didn’t really have the lips for it, he knew that (and had been made fun of for it a million times in his life), but Pierre definitely did and ok, it was phenomenal every single time. Pierre said (to himself) that it was also a great way to shut Marco up when he had gone on too long about a particular subject, which happened probably at least three times a day. He was starting to think Marco was doing it on purpose, just so he could have a guaranteed makeout session.

Marco was a terrible dancer, not even alcohol could make it any better. It was almost embarrassing to watch him, but he didn’t care. When they were out clubbing on a Saturday night, you could always find Marco on the dance floor. You could find Pierre there too, standing right behind Marco, hands on his hips in an attempt to teach him a little better technique. Marco never learned a damn thing, but he definitely enjoyed himself.

Marco loved holding Pierre’s hand - he felt safe, he felt comfortable, he liked to study their different skin tones and how nice they looked together, in his opinion. Pierre would study their hands too, thinking about how good some obnoxiously shiny rings would look on their fingers. He guessed he’d find out soon enough...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think this one was very good, but my roommate assured me it was, so I hope you all agree with her :) I've got a few more in the back of my mind, hopefully I can get them written soon. I assume you're noticing the pattern in these chapters...

**Author's Note:**

> Let's just see where this takes us, because I've got no idea...


End file.
